The Trek of Battlestar Galactica
by LongLoreLover
Summary: "War is coming son, and who is gonna lead us? YOU!" The Admiral had said. I hate to say he was right. These are the tales of the Starship Enterprise, and her companion, the BattleStar Galactica. Our mission: To find Old Spock, and go back in time to stop this madness before all of humanity is destroyed. To boldly go where no has dared. But only because we have no choice...


**Battlestar Galatica had to start somewhere. Some would say Caprica, but I say, "Why not merge two amazing franchises into one amazing story?"-LLL**

The Klingon Ships rained down Armageddon, having destroyed Star Fleet's pathetic defenses. Their peculiar shaped ships whirled through space with no restrictions, Klingons happy to obliterate anything they could find. Friendly fire became rampant. But to the trapped humans on Earth, they cared not. Cities burned as human turned on human. At least, that was how it looked. The rogue humans were Klingon sleeper-agents. Not fully Klingon, not fully human, not fully anything. They were machine. It was the only weigh to slip past Earth's scanners.

Now, there was no need to hide.

"This way!" Kirk yelled, firing his Phaser. The blue bolts were set to kill, but to Cylon Sleepers, they sent left gaping holes. It would take more than a few explosions to stop them. One leaps at Kirk, but is tackled to the ground by an Earth Ground Drone. The massive, automated machine rips the Cylon in half, and throws each piece into a truck. Kirk covers his eyes as its 180 Gw Searchbeams turn to him.

"How may I be of assis-" A bombardment strike comes down just then, completely annihilating the street. Kirk yells as he is sent back, and the world in front of him becomes an inferno. Stunned. The fall on his spine halts him for a few seconds, but soon, strong hands lift him.

"Bones, what's the ETA on the Enterprise's weapons?" Bones' trademark grimace surfaces. "We are more pressed for time than a pressed tuxedo. It's gonna be close."

"I told you to stop using metaphors." Kirk whips out his Communicator. "Spock, where the hell are we on those repairs?!"

**-At the Enterprise **

Hundreds of people ran all over the top of the beautiful ship, pattering to put in reinforced armor plates and reflective panels for cloaking. Machines hundreds of feet below hustled, cranes lifting missiles and extra power cells into the bottom. Military personnel assembled for recruitment. Those that were deemed the most talented would be brought aboard. The rest would be assigned to another ship. Spock ran off the landing ramp of the ship, gaze quickly zeroing in on the small army lined before him. Without words, he connecting with each of their consciousnesses. All of them were scared. Good, fear made some act more cautiously.

Something Kirk was notorious for not doing...

"Doctor Spock report!" Kirk's voice emanated. Spock spoke to him, but did not stop his examinations.

"Yes Captain?"

"Are we ready to take off, it's hell on Earth here!"

"Captain as Satan is present I highly doubt-"

"Are we ready or not?!" Kirk injects. He is running. In the background, people scream, and explosions nearly drown him out.

"By the time you get here yes. Military personnel are being chosen as we speak. Standby." Spock finishes the choices within two minutes. 48 of the 221 candidates would be coming on the Enterprise. The rest would go on the Battle Star Galactica. Once chosen, the people ran off to help load on the guns. Spock looked at the weapons distastefully. While it was logical to have something dispatch targets at long range, guns still required ammo, and could jam at the must uncertain times. Why have a weapon with the potential to fail you? Now was not the time. Spock ran aboard, passing numerous crew members. "Mr. Scott, start the engines. We will need to depart as soon Captain Kirk and Doctor Bones arrive."

"You think this ship is going to take off with this many bloody people and eqiupment?! We won't move an inch!"

"Then I recommend you find a way to get us airborne, or I will come down there myself."

Scotty shuts off his comm and looks to his favorite, little companion. "Oh, Mister Blue Shirt, no problem. How about I just throw him and his ego off the ship eh!"

"Mr. Scott, your comm is still on."

Scotty turns a shade of red darker than red matter.


End file.
